


Then I Will Keep You Warm

by Icarus5800



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen, Madeleine Era, Possibly Pre-Slash, Snowstorms are good matchmakers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarus5800/pseuds/Icarus5800
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Circumstances conspired to force Monsieur le Maire and his inspector to huddle for warmth.  Javert was none too pleased by this development.</p><p>
  <s>We do not know about the mayor.</s>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then I Will Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carmarthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/gifts), [voksen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/gifts), [melannen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melannen/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [stephantom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephantom/gifts), [smokefall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokefall/gifts).



> Take shelter from the storm.
> 
> Thank you so much you wonderful people for putting up with my incessant whining. This is my apology, though I fear I shall have to apologize for the apology as well.

Javert knew—and what a bitter knowledge it was!—that he had no one but himself to blame for his current predicament.

He should never have agreed to the mayor’s proposal. The mayor should never have proposed the preposterous idea in the first place. Yet Monsieur Madeleine was renowned for his foolish romanticism and naiveté, and the victim was one of his factory girls. So when Javert received word that the suspected murderer was sighted in a town some distance from Montreuil and reported this lead to the mayor before making his departure, he really should not have been too surprised that the mayor desired to come along. He tried to dissuade the man, he really did. But the mayor was extremely insistent, and, despite his many faults, Javert’s superior. In the end, the argument was lost.

Javert took no other policemen with him, reasoning that a large troop of men would alarm the suspect and cause him to flee or hide, or worse—to commit further horrors in his fear and desperation. The two of them would dress in plain labourers’ clothes and enter the town discreetly, pretending to be travellers seeking work—it was not uncommon for strangers to appear in a town looking for any form of employment in harsh winters—and proceed from there.

That had been the plan, anyways.

Neither Javert with his foresight nor the mayor with his divine grace had counted on the sudden snowstorm that appeared, making the roads impassable and trapping them in the middle of nowhere, thirty miles from the nearest settlement.

The day had started pleasantly enough, and they had set out early in the hopes of reaching their destination before nightfall. The weather took an unfortunate and calamitous turn mid-afternoon, however, and Javert now found himself in the carriage he and the mayor had been taking turns driving, shivering from cold.

This was a most regrettable development.

Especially because the mayor was here.

It was bad enough that they will be delayed. Though Javert was not too worried about failing in his task, for the suspect would be facing the same hindrance in mobility, he was nevertheless displeased at a wrench being thrown in his plans. The worst part was that the night was descending rapidly and with it the temperature, and Javert knew all too well what the logical course would be in this circumstance, and repudiated it with all his heart.

He sat as far from the mayor as possible in the small carriage, his very body language screaming rejection. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain his composure as the air grew more glacial still, and it took all his willpower to stop his teeth from undignified clattering. Javert had always been particularly susceptible to the cold, and as a result tended to stand too close to fireplaces in winter, continually singeing his greatcoats. There was no fire here, nor the means of making one.

As it was, they dared not venture outside the carriage.

The wind and the snow battered against the frail wood, shaking it incessantly, threatening to splinter their only shelter at any moment. This carriage had been chosen for its plainness and age-worn look, less likely to arouse suspicion than a warm, sturdy one. Javert was seriously reconsidering his decision.

Unconsciously, he had almost curled into a ball to preserve what little body heat remained, and straightened instantly when he realized what he had done. He hoped the mayor did not notice. He stubbornly refused to look at the man.

In fact, they had not spoken at all since mutually reaching the conclusion that they would be blockaded here until the weather calmed. Neither man was an especially good conversationalist, and added to that the awkwardness of being trapped together in a small enclosed space was enough to rob them of all speech save the occasional exclamation or prayer.

Briefly, Javert spared a sardonic thought for the horse, wondering if it was still alive. He had resolutely cut the harness when the first stirrings of the storm had frightened it into an uncontrollable frenzy. To be quite honest, he did not care.

“Javert.”

It seemed that the mayor had decided it was time to break the stilted silence within their temporary dwelling for the night. Outside, the merciless tempest raged on, careless of the inconvenience it had caused for the equally merciless inspector.

Duty obligated Javert to respond. He did so in as succinct a way as possible, hoping the mayor would not bring up the subject he had been trying to avoid. “Monsieur le Maire.”

Once more he had to straighten his posture against the almost gravitational pull that insisted on drawing his limbs closer together. He was pretty certain that the mayor noticed.

“I am cold, Javert.”

Startled, Javert at last looked at the mayor, only to find a great earnestness in his gaze. He was unable to decide if he should trust the man’s words, or if this was simply a lie to trick him into accepting the mayor’s accursed charity. He would much rather endure the cold and even freeze to death alone than share his superior’s warmth, but the choice was denied him. The mayor moved nearer. There was no space to move away.

He could not very well order his superior to remove himself, especially if his earlier words had been sincere. Giving Monsieur Madeleine the benefit of the doubt, he allowed himself to lean into the man ever so slightly, and the mayor took this as permission to wrap his arms around him. Javert did not struggle too hard for fear of destroying the already fragile carriage. As the need for sleep overtook him, his arms migrated towards the heat of the mayor, and he was too tired to resist.

They fell into uneasy slumbers clinging to each other. What little warmth they were able to share would keep them alive through the night.

They would worry about the rest in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm. Good? Bad? Au nom du ciel, this is f**king terrible, never write again? If you don't say anything I shall have to assume that it is the last.
> 
> ~~Not that that's going to stop me. I am too deeply in love to ever stop writing about these two.~~


End file.
